There's a First Time for Everything
by Agent ERA
Summary: Exploring the first illness, injuries, anniversaries, and such in the lives of our favorite duo from 221b Baker St. First fic ever!
1. Illness

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, OC's. **_

_**Summary: Exploring the first illnesses, anniversaries, injuries and such in the lives of our favorite gents from 221b Baker St. **_

_Illness 1/10_

_Watson's POV_

_Disclaimer: This written purely for fun and _

_ not for profit. _

"It's your own fault you know," I said, glaring at Holmes who was lying upon the settee which had been pulled close to the fire place. Grabbing the poker, I stabbed angrily at the dying embers, which flared back to life after a few moments of my insistent prodding's. "Really Holmes, some times you really out do yourself."

Holmes coughed harshly behind me and I turned to observe my sick friend. "Really Watson," he sneezed, "your mother henning quite becomes you and I assure you, your services are not needed."

"Holmes, you are burning up with a 99.9 fever and if you think you can push me away with flattery then you're quite mistaken," I stated harshly and started to pick up my medical instruments.

The temporary silence was broken by Mrs. Hudson entering with a laden tray. "I brought some broth for Mr. Holmes, like you asked me to, Doctor." She said and set down the tray. "I daresay you could some food as well. You'll be no good to Mr. Holmes if you collapse yourself."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," I said graciously, "I'll make sure he eats at least some of it."

She smiled and left. Ignoring Holmes' scowl, I ladled out some of the thin brown broth and walked carefully over to the settee. "Do you think you could manage to down some of it, old fellow?"

Holmes sneezed again and sighed, "Only if you'll eat as well."

I chuckled, "Of course, Holmes."

_Meh, not as good as I'd like it to be. I'm a novice at fan fiction(this is my very first) so any reviews, hints and tips would be most appreciated. _


	2. Injury

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_Injury: 2/10, Watson's POV_

A tense, icy silence had descended upon the cab as we traveled through the darkened street toward Baker St. The only sound was the clip-clop of the horses hooves against the cobble stones. I glanced warily out of the corner of my eyes at Holmes, who was gingerly held a bloodstained handkerchief to his nose.

Closing my eyes, I cautiously leaned my aching head, which had slowed to a dull throb, against the back of the cab. The trickle of blood had stopped and had eventually dried. I shudder inwardly as I remembered the previous events which had taken place earlier this evening. Against my eyelids, I once again saw the flash of a muzzle that had swung in my friend's direction.

"Really Watson," Holmes suddenly interrupted my reverie (a trifle nasally, I thought), "Your timing was most atrocious. The negotiations were quite peacefully until you had butted in." He pulled the handkerchief away from his nose and looked at it with dismay.

"Peacefully!?" I spluttered, and opening my eyes, I took one look at my friend's nose and knew that it was broken. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Holmes. The man had a gun (which was concealed, I might add) and was more than ready to use it on you!" I snorted, and added as an afterthought, "One could hardly call that a peaceful negotiation."

"I already knew he had a gun on me, Watson," Holmes said quietly. That stopped me. I gaped openly at him. Before I could say anything, Holmes raised his hand to stop me, "I had already deduced that before we even met."

I groaned, "Really Holmes," I winced as the cab went over a pot hole and my head started to ache again in renewed vigor. "It's a wonder that Lestrade found the place in time."

Holmes gave me a pained look (whether from his broken nose or from the fact that Lestrade had managed to save his skin a second time that month I wouldn't know).

I gave his nose another look and said finally, "I'll have set it plaster once we get back to Baker St."

Holmes merely turned to the front of the cab and silence, a comfortable one this time, fell upon us once again.

_**Continued in chapter three…**_

_This didn't turn out as well as I would've liked (a little dry I thought), but oh well. Don't worry, there will some Watson banging soon! Tell me what you thought. Happy Easter everyone! _


	3. Intrusion

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_Intrusion: 3/10, Holmes's POV_

_Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is not mine. _

Thrilled with the excitement of a new lead, I closed the door to my shared lodgings with a flourish. Stripping off my Iverness, I opened my mouth to call up to Watson when I abruptly stiffened. Barely visible on the carpeted stairs that led up to the sitting room were two sets of footprints. Cautiously and quietly sidestepping the prints, I knelt and upon examining them, I knew immediately that they were not Watson's.

I quickly made my way up the rest of the steps, albeit quietly, and noted instantly saw that the door was opened so far that I could observe within without being noticed. Noiselessly, I crept forward. Bending closer, I scanned intently and my breath hitched in my throat. From my crouched position, I saw the figure of my friend near the settee (bound and gagged), lying on his side, and that he had fallen on his bad shoulder.

Looking around as best I could, I spotted signs of a small struggle and which evidently had not lasted very long. In his weakened and still healing body, Watson had been easily overpowered.

Then, suddenly I heard them, "'urry it up, Stykes, 'e've been 'ere long 'nough."

" All 'ight, 'ight, keep er hat on."

My vision was suddenly filled as I saw the two thieves come into view.

The taller one motioned to the doctor, "Wha' about him?"

"Leave 'em," The slightly smaller fellow kicked Watson in the side and ignoring his muffled groan, said, "Don't get up, Doc, we'll sees ourselves out." They laughed at what they obviously thought was a clever joke and started towards the door.

I straightened to my full height and grasped my heavy walking stick which I had brought up with me.

The thieves gave a start when they swung opened the door. I tapped my stick in my palm and said cheerily, "Morning gents', fine evening, isn't it?" and swung my cane. They howled in pain and immediately dropped the bag. I winced as I heard something shatter, no doubt one Mrs. Hudson's prized tea cups. I swung again and felt the satisfactory vibration as the cane connected.

The small thief went down with a groan and lay still. Shocked at his companion's sudden drop, the taller one froze.

"Really," I said in a chiding tone, "Resistance is quite useless. Now why don't you be a good fellow and give, there's a chap?"

Swallowing, the thief acquiesced and raised his hands. Keeping a wary eye on him, I walked over to my desk, pulled out two pairs of derbies, my gun, and slapped them on him and his fellow friend.

I motioned for him to take a seat and quickly wrote out a wire to Lestrade. After sending it, I knelt by Watson and taking my pocket knife, sliced off his bonds and pulled out his gag. Helping him sit up, I asked worriedly, "Are you all right old fellow?"

Watson waved away my concern, winced slightly and said, "Yes," He looked over at that the two thieves and asked, "What of them?"

"I sent a wire to Lestrade for a constable and a wagon," I frowned and then, "Where's Mrs. Hudson?"

"Went to the market," Watson coughed, "Shortly after she left these two showed up, no doubt watching the house." He yelped I as probed my fingers through his hair, "Holmes!"

I scowled at him, "Fine, Watson? You have a bump the size of a Robin's egg." At this new discovery, I glared at the thief, who blanched.

The door bell then suddenly rang. Shortly after the thief and his groggy companion and Watson had been treated did I finally allow myself to relax.

Checking on my fellow lodger, I found that he had fallen asleep in his chair. I placed the afghan around him and pulled it up to his shoulders. Taking my pipe from the rack and then stuffing it with tobacco, I curled up in my armchair and spent the rest of the evening carefully watching my friend as he slept.

_**Continued in chapter four…**_


	4. Anniversaries, Pt I: Lodging

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, OC's**_

_**Disclaimer: you know the drill**_

_Anniversaries, Pt I: Rooming Together, 4/10, Holmes's POV_

Bullets whistled past my ears as I ran behind stacked crates in an abandoned warehouse. I heard Watson puffing behind me attempting to keep up, no doubt his leg was troubling him but we could not afford to slow down. Sighing through my nose, I found myself wishing that the criminals had chosen a more original lair. Then, without warning, I was slammed into from behind. I landed with a loud "Oof!" as the air from was expelled from my lungs.

Watson quickly rolled off my back, "Sorry, Holmes," He panted, "But that was a little to close for comfort." I looked up at the spot in the wall, just above my head, which he was pointing to. I nodded my thanks, and hefting my revolver, peeked out from behind the crates we had taken shelter. Aiming impulsively, I fired off three shots and was rewarded with twin howls of pain. Then crate next to my head exploded and I instantly withdrew my head.

I leapt to my feet, and pulling Watson along with me, and started running towards the front doors of the warehouse and to safety, firing as we went.

"Watson," I puffed, "Did you know-that as of today-" I dodged as stray bullet, "that we have been lodging together for year?"

Watson, who was quite red in the face, and also had scratch on his right cheek, said, "Holmes, I do not think now is the time for reminiscing!"

"Really, Watson!" I persisted; my lungs by now were burning for air, just a little closer. "I did not think that when we first met that it would even last this long."

Watson sent me a wry look, "Neither did I, Holmes, neither did I."

Just as we reached the main doors, they flew open and leading the charge, was Chief Inspector Lestrade, blowing shrilly on his whistle.

Soon after the criminal ring had been rounded up the rest of the evening found Watson and I back safely ensconced in the comforts of Baker St. He, with a yellowed paperback novel and I, with my favorite clay pipe.

_**Continued in Chapter Five…**_


	5. Violin

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson**_

_Violin: 5/10, Watson's POV_

At first, I did not know what woke me. Then I heard it. It was a slow, keening melody that was being played on a violin. Looking at my watch I discovered that it was 3:15 in the morning. Wondering what had possessed my friend to play so early, I pulled on my dressing gown, wincing at the slight twinge my still healing shoulder.

I quietly plodded down the stairs. Stopping at the door, I listened to the sorrowful, if slightly eerie melody, my friend played. Not recognizing the tune, I knew that it was no doubt one of his own numerous compositions.

Closing my eyes, I listened as the melody grew more rampant, then quite suddenly, slowed down back to the eerie waltz. When it had faded into a final, mournful note, I opened my eyes, walked back up the stairs and climbed back into bed. I fell back to sleep with the lingering, mournful note, haunting my dreams.


	6. Engagement

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson **_

_**Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes not mine**_

_Engagement: 6/10, Holmes's POV _

"_I really cannot congratulate you, Watson." _The words so harshly and rather insensitively spoken only mere hours before still rang within my ears. Watson's hurt look still refusing to leave my mind. How I wished now that I had not spoken them! I have often remarked to my fellow lodger that his face is like an open book, almost too easy to read.

Soon after Watson had left, I felt an unfamiliar twinge in my chest which I recognized as guilt and quickly suppressed. Now was not the time for letting my emotions get the better of me.

I must confess that the engagement did not surprise me. Even after Miss Morstan was living the sitting room I could that Watson was already infatuated by her. Throughout the case I noticed them stealing looks at each other when they I was not looking and I chose to readily ignore it.

If Watson was happy with the prospect of marriage, I decided, let him be and not begrudge him, for I knew that I shall never traverse down the dreaded path of matrimony.

_**Continued in chapter seven…**_

_Not as good as the rest but I hope you like it. It was rather hard to write…_


	7. Anniversaries, pt II: Holmes

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Watson**_

_**Disclaimer: This is purely written for fun and not for profit. **_

_Anniversaries, pt. II: Holmes 7/10, Watson's POV _

Even though I had promised myself never to write of this day again, it has forced itself upon me as I sit beside the sickbed of my beloved Mary. I cannot help but remember it. Of this day, exactly one year ago, my dearest friend plunged to his death, while locked in mortal combat with his fiercest enemy in his singular career. The image that sticks foremost in my mind is that of Holmes, leaning against a sheer rock face, with his alpenstock in the crook of his folded arms. It was the last time I saw him.

Now I know clearly that the letter that been delivered to me had been a hoax. A mere ruse to draw me away from Holmes. Thinking back, I remember that Holmes did not try to stop me; clearly, he must have known about the letter, probably even before I did. Though I respect his concerns about my safety, I wished he would've let me stay. Now, I believe, he did not want me to watch him fight, I'll never truly understand I suppose.

A slight moan draws my attention back to the present. My dearest wife lies ill with fever, I pray that she'll pull, but I know deep in my heart, that it is too late. The fever attacked quite suddenly, leaving Mary bedridden for days. It took its toll on her body; she grew worse each day, until her body gave its fight.

Tears spring unbidden in my eyes and I wipe them away furiously. Fate has indeed a cruel sense of humor. One year ago, my dearest and best friend was taken away from me on this very night and now, swiftly approaching Death's Door, was my beloved wife. I do not know how I will be able to cope with another loss. I am truly alone.

_**Continued in chapter eight…**_

_I wanna thank all you readers for staying with me thus far… it truly is most wonderful, I must confess that the number of reviews I have been getting truly caught me by surprise…*huggles and gives virtual cookies*_


	8. Collapse

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson**_

_**Disclaimer: Holmes belongs to Doyle**_

_Collapse: 8/10, Holmes' POV_

I must confess that of all the reactions I had thought of, fainting was certainly not one of them. But when his face went white and his knees started to buckle, I knew I had taken my dramatic a bit to far. Diving forward, I managed to catch Watson before his head struck the floor. His dead weight slammed into me with such force that I was nearly knocked off my own feet. It was indeed an awkward position.

I shifted my arm under Watson's shoulders, and took a moment to just to examine him. He was thinner than I remembered, as if the few pounds his wife managed force on him never existed at all. His wife! I groaned inwardly, remembering my conversation with my brother just before coming here.

"_Really Sherlock," Mycroft insisted, "I do not think that this is a good idea."_

_By this time I was already dawning my disguise, "I do not any reason why." _

_Mycroft sighed, "You and your flair the dramatics!" he growled, "Have you not listened to anything I said?"_

_I didn't answer. _

"_Good grief, man!" he thundered, "if you had not been locked inside you own head, then you would know what sort of state he's in!" _

"_What state?" My beard was nearly in place._

_Mycroft's dark eyes glinted, "In a week's time it will be exactly one year from his wife's death," he paused, then added rather tartly, "and three years from your supposed "death."_

_I froze and said, "Why brother mine, is that a touch of concern in your voice?"_

_Mycroft said in a steel voice, "I am merely stating that this sort entrance could give him a serious shock. Especially in the state he's in!" His voice softened fractionally, "Be gentle with him, Sherlock."_

Now, with him in my arms, I knew that Mycroft had been right (though I'll never admit it to him, of course!). Standing, I hefted Watson into the chair behind his desk and loosened his collar. Taking out a brandy flask from my jacket, I undid the stopper and, lifting his head, forced a sip. My hand still on his shoulder, I waited.

He spluttered and then unconsciously swallowed. Relieved, I saw his eyes flutter and slowly open. Two brilliant hazel orbs stared. In my three years of lonely travel, I thought that would never look upon those kind and compassionate eyes ever again.

For a few moments, we stared silently at each other. Then, almost hesitantly, Watson reached out and grasped my arm.

"Holmes?" he whispered hoarsely, "Is it truly you?"

I released the breath I had been unconsciously holding.

"I owe you a thousand apologies, my dearest friend," I paused, "I had no idea that you would be so affected."

_**Continued in chapter nine…**_

_I have to say that Mycroft was sort of hard to write, but then; this was written on whim and a plot bunny. Only two more to go! Hmmm, but then again……_


	9. Anniversaries Pt III: Mary

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson**_

_**Disclaimer: As I have said before, Sherlock Holmes belongs to Doyle**_

_Anniversaries Pt III: Mary, 9/10, 3__rd__ person_

He walked home in the snow, having run out of money yesterday and did not want to ask. A lone cab passed by, probably the last one, for the streets were laden with snow, making it difficult to drive. The falling flakes didn't help. Thus, he was surprised as the cab made a u-turn at the head of the street. He was further surprised when the cab halted beside him and Holmes stepped out. Without saying anything, Holmes, gently helped him into the cab and they then headed off at a brisk pace. When they stopped, it was not at Baker Street, but at the cemetery. Holmes squirmed uncomfortably; he opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly, not knowing what to say.

No words were necessary.

_**Concluded in chapter ten…**_


	10. Retirement

_**There's a First Time for Everything**_

_**Characters: Holmes, Watson**_

_**Disclaimer: Holmes belongs to Doyle**_

_Retirement: 10/10, 3__rd__ person_

_**World War 1: Waiting**_

_Holmes did not consider himself religious by any means. The only times he been inside churches had been for completely different reason. Now, he thought, even that might change. He was here, not to solve a case, but for a different purpose. _

_He wasn't surprised when Watson had informed him that he had re-enlisted in His Majesty's service. Watson had also told him, quite clearly in fact, that he would not be going out into the battlefield, as his old war wounds will prevent it. If Watson had thought that would keep Holmes from worrying, then he was quite wrong._

_Watson promised to write and so he had. "Lengthy delays in the post are to be expected," said Watson, "so please do not go off your head panicking because there hasn't been any in two weeks." Holmes did not feel comforted by that and said so. _

_Watson merely smiled, and asked that he do one thing while he was away. "Please don't brood." _

_Holmes shifted on the wooden pew. He recalled that conversation quite clearly. He then discovered absent mindedly that he absolutely hated to wait. He hated it…waiting…waiting…waiting…_

_**Post World War I: Homeward Bound**_

The rolling of the train lulled Watson to sleep and Holmes too the time to study his friend. When they had first met at St. Bart's, he hadn't expected to make and stay friends for this long.

He had been as surprised as Lestrade and his fellow inspectors at the Yard, that Watson had lasted a year. Then two, three and so on. Holmes vaguely wondered what the old crotchety retired Inspector was up to nowadays.

Smiling softly, Holmes pulled off his Iverness, and slipped it over the slumbering Watson, who shifted in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, but did not wake.

Holmes sent a silent prayer towards Providence that his dearest friend had been one of the lucky one who had made home alive and not in a wooden coffin. He settled back in to the cushion and waited for the train to arrive at Sussex.

_**Concluded! **_

_First off, I just want to all you for all your kind reviews and taking time to read this. I intend to write more, so I suppose I should warn you ahead of time that I'll probably be sporadically updating, 'cause I either won't have them fully developed or it's just because I'm notorious at home for starting a story and never finishing. This reminds me, thanks for your patience in my updating :)! Once again, thank you for all your kind reviews!_

_Hopefully, I'll get some more written soon..._

_Until next time,_

_Agent ERA _


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